


The Other One

by TheRazoBlade



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRazoBlade/pseuds/TheRazoBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What happened?” John asked as soon as Sherlock stepped into the flat.<br/>“Nothing,” Sherlock threw his coat on the coat rack.<br/>“Then why did you run out of here like a bat out of hell?”<br/>“Because something had came up,” he then walked to his chair and sat in it.<br/>John did as Sherlock did and sat in his, “About your mother? Have you found her?”<br/>“No,” he said disappointed, “It’s about someone else.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other One

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo. Nice to meet y'all! (Excuse the Southern accent it's gonna happen in the notes) This is my first fic and I know I haven't put a lot of tags up but I don't want to spoil it just yet. (Even though I kind of did with the title) So of course each chapter I put out more tags will follow. Once we get further into the story you'll understand. So please leave some reviews or if I messed up anywhere (I don't have an editor of any sort) don't be shy and let me know, I'm still learning. Almost forgot, I DON'T OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS!!!!

Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes never had any decent phone calls. Like they were any better when they were physically in a room together. Even if they were raised together and were similar to each other in some ways, having a nice chat or phone call was out of the question. It was always just snarky comments thrown back and forth between the brothers only ending when one of them hangs up while the other is in mid sentence. Though these phone calls rarely happened they always-left Sherlock in a very bad mood. Because the phone calls were always for nothing, just Mycroft checking in on his little brother and annoying him to no end. 

Until those three distinct phone calls that Sherlock got from his older brother and caused a lot of chaos for the Holmes brothers. It all happened within three months, possibly the most emotional three months Sherlock has received in John’s point of view. Sherlock’s own good friend, Dr. John Watson, was always forced to listen into the conversation that the Holmes brothers had and had to handle Sherlock’s moods when they were over. John has seen it all with his friend. Sherlock had yelled, threw his mobile at the chair, and even made not so empty promises against Mycroft. But the personal drama that was pulled out of these phone calls had John by the collar and didn’t want let go. 

Of course it all started with the first phone call. Sherlock and John were at St. Bart’s Hospital looking over a body that Detective Inspector Lestrade wanted Sherlock to look over. Molly was already there with the body laid out and waiting for the consulting detective. 

The body was formally a florist that was found mysteriously dead in the middle of his shop with no evidence pertaining to his death. Sherlock was observing the body, his eyes squinting as he made the deductions in his head while John and Molly looked on anticipating of what he would find. He took in a breath to begin to explain his findings but was interrupted by a loud vibration in his coat. 

He yanked out his phone and checked the caller ID. His brows furrowed together looking over the name again. He quickly put the phone to his ear and answered, “Yes?”

His tone was impatient and since no one really called Sherlock, just texted, John assumed it was Mycroft. John could barely hear Mycroft’s voice coming from the phone. That was new. John could usually hear the smug look on his face through the phone but Mycroft was talking very quietly, almost as if he was speaking softly to Sherlock. 

At first John thought it was maybe a new way Mycroft was trying to get underneath Sherlock’s skin but then he saw Molly. She always stood at attention, staring at Sherlock readily and waiting for his next command but now she was standing like Sherlock was going to fall at any moment. Then he turned all his attention to Sherlock. It looked like all the air was taken out of him. Sherlock was standing absolutely still and it seemed like he was holding his breath. It got quiet on the other side of the phone call. Mycroft had stopped talking probably waiting for an answer. John didn’t know for how long but he wondered what he could’ve said to make Sherlock like this. 

“Sherlock?” John finally heard Mycroft say on the other end of the line still softly as ever. Sherlock jerked out of his trance and quickly replied, “Is mother alright?” 

More talking came from the other end and Sherlock just answered with yes to whatever Mycroft was saying.

“I’ll take the first train tomorrow morning,” Sherlock said before saying good-bye and hanging up the phone. He put the phone back into his pocket and continued looking at the body before him. His eyes scanned the body again but John could tell he was just looking right through it.

“Sherlock?” John said, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh,” Sherlock said as if he didn’t know that John was there the entire time, “It’s nothing.”

“That sounded like something serious,” Molly said taking a step towards Sherlock.

Instantly Sherlock straightened up and turned to Molly, “This man was accidentally poisoned by some sort of spore from one of his plants. Tell Lestrade to get a record of anything new that the man has ordered and see if any of them are lethal. Not a murder just a waste of my time so would you please get me and John some coffee.”

Molly was taken aback by Sherlock but did what he asked. Once she left the room Sherlock leaned his back onto the wall behind him and took a big breath.

“What was that all about?” John asked moving closer to Sherlock.

“She was annoying me just standing there,” Sherlock said looking up into the lights on the ceiling.

“That’s not what I’m talking about Sherlock. What did Mycroft say?”

“My father died last night,” Sherlock said with his head still tilted up but his eyes closed, “He died in his sleep.”

“Oh,” John shifted awkwardly, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. I’m going to be hearing that all week,” Sherlock pushed himself off of the walk and made his way out the door, John followed.

“So you’re leaving tomorrow then?” John tried to keep Sherlock talking.

“Yes, I have to help with the funeral arrangements with the family. Mother probably won’t be able to do it on her own.”

“Well at least you’ll get some bonding time with your family,” John tried to make the situation lighter but Sherlock just rolled his eyes. Sherlock was taking this too well, John thought. He didn’t know how close he was to his father but he’s just brushing it off now. Well he did look like he got the shock of his life, which John was pretty sure he did, when he got the news.

They walked passed Molly in the hallway and she gave John a questioning look. Which he replied in shaking and taking the coffee, which he was sure that Sherlock didn’t even want, from her.

“Later,” he whispered as he left her to catch up with Sherlock

That night Sherlock stayed locked up in his room packing for the week he was going to spend at his parent’s house and he didn’t come back out until the next morning. He said his goodbyes to John and their landlady Mrs. Hudson, and then left for the train station.

A few hours later John got a text from Sherlock, notifying that he had made it but nothing else for that day. For the rest of the week Sherlock sent John texts about how Mycroft was pestering him, how his mother was feeling from time to time, and the usual questions about why people suddenly want to be friendly when one of your parents just died. Near the end of the week Sherlock sent the information about the funeral and told John he could come if he liked, courtesy of his mother.

John didn’t really want to go since he didn’t really know the man but he did want to be there for his friend. Because with all the texts he got from Sherlock, he never mentioned how he felt about losing his own father. In the end to support his friend, John and his wife Mary packed up and left for the Holmes’ house. 

The funeral was like any other. The showing was calm. Family members and old colleagues of the late man took turns talking about the life he had and how he or she were going to miss him. Even Sherlock and Mycroft had a few things to say. They were very touching speeches that made John and Mary’s eyes watery for this man that they barely knew.

After that was the burial. When the casket was lowered into the ground the only noise you heard was Sherlock’s mother sobbing into her son’s arms. All three of them stayed next to the grave for a long time. John didn’t know how long he was welcomed there, since him and Mary was supposed to leave with Sherlock back to London, so they just kept their distance. An hour and a half had past before any of the Holmes’ moved. Mycroft led his mother into his car to take her home and Sherlock went with Watsons. 

During the entire journey back to Baker Street, Sherlock didn’t say a word. John didn’t know what to say or if he should’ve said anything, but he stayed strong for his friend. When they got home Sherlock literally ran up to his room and slammed the door behind him. Mrs. Hudson tried to go to him but John stopped her and assured her that Sherlock was fine. Mary returned home but John stayed at Baker Street just in case.

A few weeks had passed before the second phone call from Mycroft. This phone call sent Sherlock’s phone across the living room and into the kitchen. Sherlock had gone out of mourning about a week ago and was taking clients in no time, though none of them caught his interest. 

One of the clients had just left in a crying mess when Mycroft called and Sherlock was already in one of his moods. John could hear Mycroft’s voice, which sounded very loud. Then Sherlock started yelling at him and John was sure it was vice versa. Thus the phone was now shattered on the kitchen floor.

“How could she be so stupid?!” Sherlock yelled to no one, “How?!”

“How could who be so stupid?” John almost regretted to ask.

Sherlock paced the floor then roughly sat down in his chair, “My mother decided to disappear.”

“Out of thin air?” 

“No you idiot,” Sherlock spat and John just ignored the insult, “She just up and left in broad daylight for no reason.”

“How do you know she just left? What if someone took her?”

“Impossible,” Sherlock put his hands together like he did when he was thinking, “No one would want to kidnap her. And if she was it wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.”

Once again Sherlock left the next morning to his parents home to see for himself that his mother did leave. He was only gone for three days when he came back more frustrated than ever. Apparently there was no evidence about her reason for leaving or as to where she went. There was still a search going on for her but Sherlock claimed that if he spent one more second with Mycroft he was going to do something he probably wouldn’t regret. In the end Mycroft stayed at their parents house, taking care of business there while Sherlock took what he could at Baker Street. 

For a whole entire month they couldn’t find their mother and Sherlock was getting more irritable by the day. He closed the door on dozens of client’s faces and ignored all of Lestrade’s calls. It was just John and Sherlock now. Sherlock was almost a wreck and John didn’t really trust him being by himself. Gladly Mary understood and let John be by his friend’s side. But John would feel bad leaving her alone and he felt equally as bad if he had her around Sherlock. So Mary would come and go, as did John when he went home. 

Another week passed and Sherlock was ready to blow and John was beginning to be at the end of his rope. If they didn’t find Sherlock’s mother soon, John knew that all hell would break loose.

Then came the third phone call. Sherlock took the call to his room and John waited for him to emerge yelling about the incompetence of the police into finding his mother. 

On the other side of the door John couldn’t hear anything. Suddenly he heard Sherlock’s wardrobe door slam opened and Sherlock came out putting on his coat. Without saying a word or even looking to John, Sherlock left.

After a whole day John worried for his friend so he called Mycroft and Sherlock was there with him at their parent’s home, attending ‘family business’ as Mycroft called it. John asked if they found their mother but Mycroft said that they still had no leads as to what had happened to her. Mycroft assured John that Sherlock was fine and he was going to send him back to London because he has to be there just in case if something ‘popped up’ there.

The very next day, as Mycroft promised, Sherlock was back sulking that his brother sent him back home. 

“What happened?” John asked as soon as Sherlock stepped into the flat.

“Nothing,” Sherlock threw his coat on the coat rack.

“Then why did you run out of here like a bat out of hell?”

“Because something had came up,” he then walked to his chair and sat in it. 

John did as Sherlock did and sat in his, “About your mother? Have you found her?”

“No,” he said disappointed, “It’s about someone else.”

“Who?” If it wasn’t Sherlock’s mother that had Sherlock leave with out even a ‘by your leave’. Then this other person might’ve been just as important. Sherlock sat quiet for a while, tapping his foot and his eyes darting across the floor. John looked down to the floor too then he realized that Sherlock was stuck in his ‘mind palace’ as he called it. 

John hated to interrupt him, especially since he knew Sherlock would be angry if he did but Sherlock was kind of scaring him. So John nudged his leg a bit and Sherlock’s head snapped up.

“Who are talking about?” Sherlock looked like he wanted to yell and get angry with John but his features softened. He opened his mouth to say something then John’s phone went off.

John answered it after seeing it was Lestrade calling.

“Where the hell is Sherlock?” Lestrade said very loudly.

“He’s right here. Do you need him for something?” John asked.

“I’ve been trying to call him for the last bloody hour. I’ve got something for him.”

John moved the phone from his mouth and turned to Sherlock, “It’s Lestrade, and he said he needs you.”

“Tell him I’m not interested,” Sherlock replied. Lestrade seemed to have heard that and started yelling from the other line. John tried to keep the phone to his ear to listen to what the detective had to say. Lestrade seemed to calm down and started explaining the situation to John. John listened as carefully as he could and then looked to Sherlock with his mouth slightly agape.

“What is it?” Sherlock asked.

“Apparently,” John said slowly still listening to Lestrade, “Lestrade was called for a missing boy. A duchess’ son and met some girl there. She claimed to be an assistant of yours. She said she was your cousin. And she found the boy but now she’s gone missing too.”

Sherlock looked at John in disbelief then some sort of realization flashed in his face. He hopped up from his chair and grabbed his coat, “Where’s Lestrade now?”

John got up as well hoping that Sherlock wouldn’t just run out again, “He’s in his office with the boy. Are you leaving again?”

“Yes and you should come too,” Sherlock tossed John’s coat to him, “I’m not any good with children.”

John told Lestrade that they were going to meet him then hung up his phone. Sherlock already waved a cab down once John made it outside and they both entered the vehicle.

“So it’s your cousin?” John wanted to know more about this girl and if maybe she was the same girl that made Sherlock leave the other day.

“She’s not my cousin,” Sherlock sneered as he pulled out his phone and texted someone, “If she’s trying to cover her trail then she’s going to have to do better than that.”

John glanced at Sherlock’s phone, “You texting Lestrade?”

“No,” Sherlock said not taking his eyes off the screen, “I’m texting Mycroft. It seems he was right about her coming to London.”

“Who?” John getting a little annoyed since he still wasn’t getting a straight answer.

“My sister,” Sherlock shoved his phone into his pocket to show emphasis on his frustration, “Enola.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far! This will probably be the shortest chapter in the series so don't worry. I'm going to be doing this in the BBC style of the big three episodes so expect three big chapters. With maybe small intervals. I don't know. There's so much to write for this but to keep it in three chapters will be really hard. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy my writings.


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